


on the upswing

by drewgon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Female Character, Blood and Injury, Bullying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, M/M, Multi, Nail Polish, Nightmares, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is an Avenger, Polyamory, Pride, Sleepovers, Sleepy Cuddles, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker, michelle jones is a theater kid fuck you, no continuity between chapters these are crossposted from tumblr as i write them, rated t for language and injury, tags/rating also stand to be updated as i continue writing these
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-20 06:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drewgon/pseuds/drewgon
Summary: A collection of unrelated drabbles and shorter fics posted to my Tumblr from prompts that I'd prefer not to post individually on AO3.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pride](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11716134) by [ottertrashpalace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottertrashpalace/pseuds/ottertrashpalace). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this art](http://baomien.tumblr.com/post/164229611789/i-can-only-draw-her-in-one-jacket) by @baomien on tumblr and [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11716134/chapters/26388294) by ottertrashpalace!
> 
> Peter and MJ get ready to go to pride together C:

The smell of nail polish makes Peter cough. It shouldn’t – the open bottle is next to MJ’s knee, and his hand rests on her knee with his arm fully straightened in front of him, quite a distance for the scent to travel – and yet, before he can think better of it, he finds himself instinctively yanking his arm back and burying his face in his elbow to smother his coughing. MJ yelps, leaps back, and Peter glimpses her catching the vial of nail polish out of the corner of his eye.

“ _Shit,_ Peter!” He winces at the high pitch of her startled voice. Once his breathing settles, she continues. “Warn me next time, alright? Jesus.”

“It snuck up on me,” he shrugs, and returns his hand to her knee. MJ leans over, teeth tugging absently at her lips (to which bright purple lipstick has been generously applied) as she dabs at his thumbnail with the brush. The touch with which she holds his thumb in place is so light that Peter almost doesn’t feel it, save for her nails brushing against his skin. “I’m not an expert in, like, nailpaintingology or whatever,” Peter says, nose pressed into the shoulder of his free arm to block the smell of the polish and muffling his voice, “but I didn’t think it was supposed to take this long.”

“It wouldn’t, except that I keep having to go back and fix your nails when you move around and mess everything up.” Her voice is colored with a hint of annoyance that Peter knows doesn’t mean anything.

“Taste of your own medicine is treating you worse than you expected, huh?”

MJ flicks a stray purple curl over her shoulder haughtily, gasping at Peter with a pretend air of having suffered a serious offense. “If I remember correctly, _you’re_ the one who kept coughing and wheezing into my hair the whole time you were dyeing it.”

“Have you considered that maybe it’s not a good idea to put a guy with superhuman senses directly in front of something that smells that strong?”

“I figured if you can tolerate your own stink all day, every day, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal–”

“Oh, come on, that’s not fair,” Peter whines, sticking out his bottom lip in a melodramatic pout, and MJ ducks her head down again to escape it.

“Alright, okay, I’m almost done here, just stop fidgeting for five seconds, I’m begging you,” says MJ, deadpan; after only a few seconds of swiping over the nail of Peter’s pinky finger, she stands up and wipes her hands on her pants. “Don’t touch anything, I’ll be right back,” she says, and runs off.

Peter nods, a useless gesture since MJ is out of sight. Fighting off the urge to touch the wet polish, he holds his hand up to his face and rotates it slowly, analyzing the way the light’s reflection shifts across the pastel. She had painted blue on his pinky and thumb, pink on index and ring fingers, and white on his middle fingernail – the pattern of the trans flag.

When MJ rushes back in, blow dryer in hand, Peter hasn’t finished admiring it.

“We should head out in like half an hour, so I’m gonna speed up the drying process a bit – there’s no way you won’t smudge them up if I don’t.”

“You have so much faith in me.”

“Hey, you’ve earned it.”

“Oh, thanks.”

MJ looses her hair from the half-bun she had thrown it into before painting their nails (her own painted with the colors of the bisexual flag) and sets to work drying Peter’s. Whether it’s the air or the fact that the polish is drying, some part of the process seems to dispel the once overpowering fumes, which leaves Peter that much less lightheaded.

“I’ve never actually been to a pride parade before,” he confesses, and winces when his voice cracks; he can only hope the sound of the air rushing through the blow dryer obscured it. “I don’t know what I should, uh… expect.”

“Don’t worry about it, just stick with me the whole time and it’ll be fun. We can stop for smoothies! Oh, and I’ll snag us some buttons. Basically, just have a good time, and the rest is up to me.”

“Where would I be without you?”

“Tragically single and owning much fewer kickass jackets, I assume.” MJ shuts off the dryer and prods his shoulder with it, a sly smirk growing at the corner of her lips. “That should do it for now.”

She stands, and tugs on a rumpled denim jacket from where it had been slung haphazardly over the back of a chair – it’s emblazoned with a variety of patches, including one of the bisexual pride flag. Her eyes light up with a flash of inspiration, and then MJ is standing in front of Peter with a tube of purple lipstick in her hand.

“Pucker up, Parker.” He only looks at her, questioningly. “We’ll be a gross, matchy couple. It’s perfect.”

With a sigh, Peter gives in. Although he can’t see his face – which is probably for the best at this point – he can tell she puts too much on him. It pays off, though, when MJ finishes, and then yanks him in close to her chest and presses a long kiss to his cheek, followed by a peck on the lips. She pulls back with a smile and throws her arm around his shoulders.

“To complete the look,” she explains.

“Of course. It’s vital.”

Peter lets his fingers ghost over the lipstick print on his cheek. With a cheesy grin, he lets MJ guide them out the door, into the streets of the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanna say one more time if you haven't already please please please go look at [this amazing art](http://baomien.tumblr.com/post/164229611789/i-can-only-draw-her-in-one-jacket) and [this amazing fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11716134/chapters/26388294) i love both of them so much!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Can I request 86 for the drabbles? Thanks!
> 
> 86\. "Am I scaring you?"
> 
> \--
> 
> Peter shows up at MJ's house in need of help.

He wouldn’t be tapping on MJ’s window in the middle of the night if he had any other choice. She doesn’t open it, just looks up from her laptop long enough to nod at him. Peter’s shoulder screams as he lifts the window open just wide enough to fall through.

It’s when he doesn’t stick the landing that MJ catches on, turns to actually look at him. With a hiss, Peter pushes himself to a sitting position and uses his good arm to pull off his tattered mask. He hears the laptop slam shut, and MJ drops herself onto the floor in front of him.

“What the hell are you doing here? What happened?”

She doesn’t look at his face; Peter watches hers pale as she takes in the sight of him, suit torn in at least a dozen places and blood dripping from each one.

“Some jerk bombed a corner store. I took him out and got everyone else out in time, but I don’t, like, know how to defuse a bomb.”

“Jesus,” MJ breathes, fingers trailing over a particularly deep gash in his upper arm. Peter presses the remains of his mask over it.

“They were gonna call an ambulance for me, but I can’t. It’s too much of a risk for my identity, and I don’t think they’d know how to treat me – and even if they did, I couldn’t afford it. The explosion wasn’t too far from here, I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

No response. MJ stares at the wound in Peter’s shoulder where a chunk of shrapnel, long since discarded, had buried itself.

“Am I scaring you?” He reaches out to take her hand, forgetting about the blood soaked into the gloves of his suit, and MJ recoils.

“You show up at my window at nearly two in the fucking morning, bleeding from nearly every inch of your body, and you think you can ask me that?”

“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” he says, voice soft. “It was the only place I could think of. It’s not that bad, I get hurt worse all the time.”

“Amazing, I feel so much better now. This is _terrifying,_ Peter.”

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t. I’m getting bandages, and you’re cleaning up any blood that gets on my carpet before it stains. Next time, you call first.”

“Got it.”

MJ disappears into the hallway, and Peter trades out his suit for shorts and a loose tank top. When she returns with a first aid kit and two mugs of hot chocolate, he can’t help but smile. He tells her the story of taking out the bomber, and each time she grins at Peter’s excitement, his train of thought screeches to a halt. And if, when the cleaning and stitching and wrapping is done, MJ asks him to stay – well, who is he to deny?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm doing a drabble prompt thing on tumblr today (august 26) and will continue to accept prompts for the next few days at least! [here's](http://gaymaximoffs.tumblr.com/post/164641720244/drabble-challenge-1-150) a link to the post with the prompts, feel free to hit me up with a request [@gaymaximoffs](http://gaymaximoffs.tumblr.com) on tumblr!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: yo 16 for the drabble prompts 8)
> 
> 16\. "I'll kick his ass for you if you want me to."
> 
> \--
> 
> Three losers play some video games.

“I think you might be the worst Genji main I’ve ever seen.” 

“Says the guy who only plays McCree because he can do rolls,” Peter spits back at Ned through the mic. 

“That is untrue and also not a legitimate criticism. At least I can stay alive for more than thirty seconds on the objective.” The voice of Athena declares ‘defeat’ through Peter’s speakers, and he tosses the remote to the side of the bed, where it bounces gently in front of MJ. “Oh, thank God it’s MJ’s turn to play. Finally a decent offense player.”

Peter crosses his arms and collapses backwards on the mattress. 

“It’s not my fault I’m objectively better,” says MJ as she selects Sombra from the menu.

“Not true,” Peter objects.

“Dude, everyone and their mom knows MJ’s cooler than you in every possible way.”

“But I’m _Spider-Man!_ I’m basically an Avenger!”

“Last month you dislocated your shoulder because you sneezed so hard you fell off the ceiling. Even being Spider-Man can’t redeem you from that,” Ned taunts through the speakers. Peter turns to MJ, pouting.

“Babe, babe, listen,” MJ says, resting her hands on his shoulders. Her expression is serious now, as she looks him directly in the eyes. “I’ll kick his ass if you want me to, just say the word.”

Peter snorts, and MJ’s poker face dissolves into soft giggles.

“You could totally kick Peter’s ass too, though!”

“Only because I’d let her,” Peter shrugs.

Just as the next match is starting, MJ shoves Peter off the bed. “You don’t ‘let me’ do anything, Spider-Douche.” He looks up at her from the floor with stars in his eyes. Both of them are right, of course -- he could never be cooler than Michelle Jones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still accepting drabble prompts!! [here's](http://gaymaximoffs.tumblr.com/post/164641720244/drabble-challenge-1-150) the post, hmu [@gaymaximoffs](http://gaymaximoffs.tumblr.com) to send me one or just to chat, my askbox is always open!!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kumiko-yoshikuni asked: 47 for the drabbles please
> 
> 47\. "I thought it was a one-night stand...and now we're married..."
> 
> \--
> 
> Just kids being nerds.

“I thought it was a one night stand! Now we’re _married?_ ”

“That’s literally not how this game works at all, Parker. Plus, your Sim’s house is actually furnished. I needed a place to crash,” says MJ, leaning back in Peter’s desk chair. She grabs the can of Sprite from his hand that he had run off to grab and takes a smug sip as Peter stares at the screen, mouth hanging open.

“I was gone for, like, _less than a minute._ YouTube is never gonna let me forget this, M!” He plops into the chair next to hers, head in his hands. “Neither of us are even remotely financially stable! How will we feed the children?!”

“Who said anything about kids?”

“The entire comments section, probably! God, we can’t backtrack in this game, either. This is just my life now. Okay.”

“I’m so not editing this out of the final version of the video,” MJ says with a grin Peter would describe as evil.

“You were still _recording?_ ” He flips out of the chair and paces around the office, fingers knotted in his hair. “I am _never_ leaving during a recording session ever again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the record i'm not gonna write anything sexual for these characters seeing as how they're kids and i'm just. not comfortable with that lmao. still accepting [prompts](http://gaymaximoffs.tumblr.com/post/164641720244/drabble-challenge-1-150) tho so feel free to check those out and send me some [@gaymaximoffs](http://gaymaximoffs.tumblr.com) !! i'm kinda.....in the middle of the whole hurricane thing at the moment and trying desperately to keep my mind on. Not That. so yeah still taking those if you guys want!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: can you do a fic where Peter and Tony are trapped somewhere waiting for help and Peter is hurt bad and Tony is scared and angry
> 
> UPDATE: an extended version of this (2.7k words) now exists so check that out [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11927400) if you want!!

"Mr. Stark, I'm... tired."

"Hey, no, you stay with me, Peter, alright? Try and stay awake." Tony presses his hand against Peter's gut and cringes at the squelching sound it makes, but he _has_ to put pressure on the wound.

"Huh, I forgot about that." Peter's head rolls back and thuds against the metal behind him.

Tony turns away to speak into the comm, jostling Peter's bloodied thigh that Friday had informed him was definitely broken. He jumps back when he hits it, but Peter doesn't seem to have noticed anything. _How is this kid still conscious,_ he has to wonder.

"We're on the sixth floor. Peter is hurt, badly. I can't leave, he needs someone, somebody has to come help me with him," he says into the comm, watching Peter's tongue poke absently at his lips as the kid leans back against the dented elevator door. "And don't come through the elevator."

The poor kid's breathing is shakier than even Tony's hands. He's so _pale_ \-- he can't let Peter die here. He won't.

"Tell me about your day," he says, jaw clenching, pressing more firmly against Peter's wound. He's itching to get back out there and rain hellfire on the son of a bitch that did this, but for now he'll keep Peter talking, keep him focused on something, keep him _alive._

"Aw, you don't wanna hear about--" Peter coughs abruptly. Tony pretends not to see the blood that comes out. "You got better things to... to do than listen to me talking, Mr. Stark."

"No, hey, don't _ever_ think that, okay? There's nothing more important to me right now. Go ahead, tell me."

"'Kay, well, Aunt May made breakfast this morning. Pancakes. She's not very good at it but I always eat 'em anyway and it tastes better 'cause I know she cares 'n it makes her happy." He pauses, bites his lip, and it strikes Tony once again that he's so _young._ This gangly little teenager hasn't even escaped puberty yet. "That sounded dumb, huh. Hey, Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Mr. Stark, I think I'm gonna die here."

Quiet for a moment. He knows Peter can see his jaw tighten, face harden, sees the kid starting to wonder if he said something wrong --

"No." Tony gets up. Gets up, paces around the room they're in -- an office. He slams his fist through a desk. "Where the fuck is everyone?! I need _help,_ he's in shock. Someone get the hell over here, _now._ "

Natasha's staticky voice cuts in through the comm. "We're doing the best we can, but it's tough out here."

"I'll be there in a few minutes," Steve promises.

"I don't--" Tony begins yelling, but turns to face Peter, who gives him a look of utter confusion, and pain, and Tony hisses into the comm instead-- "I don't know if we have that long."

He returns to Peter and puts pressure on the wound again, trying not to think about whatever it is he can see poking through.

"Sorry I--"

"Don't. There's nothing to be sorry for. You know what, _I'm_ sorry. I'm sorry for dragging you into this. You're too young, no matter how much you insist you're not. You have so much more to lose than any of the rest of us. It's not fair to you, and I'm sorry."

Peter's response is heavily delayed. He reaches out and tugs at Tony's free arm, pulls him forwards, and Tony finds himself hugging the kid. He doesn't _care_ how much blood he's getting on the suit, or how vulnerable this position he's in might look. All that matters is that this kid, this _child,_ needs comfort, and fuck if Tony isn't going to provide it as best he can.

"My head feels _weird,_ Mr. Stark. You dose me when I wasn't looking?" Peter laughs, although it sounds more like a cough.

"No, I didn't--" As Peter's eyes drift away from Tony's face and towards the broken windows behind him, Tony cuts off. He turns around to see Steve and Sam bounding towards their building. He's never been so relieved to see Cap in his life.

Sam lands first, and pushes past Tony to look Peter over.

"Jesus, kiddo," he mutters. "Well, we ain't gonna get him walking, I can tell you that. Broken femur. Wherever we take him after this, he'll need to be on a stretcher."

It's at that moment that Steve decides to make an appearance. He jumps in through the same broken windows that Sam did, and runs over to where the three others are standing, by the elevator.

"Do you have the situation handled?" Tony asks.

"As well as it'll ever be. We can take care of it from here -- you heading out?"

Tony lets the helmet close around his head, clenches his fists, and turns to look at Cap. 

"I'm gonna go kick some alien ass."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i normally don't do straight up requests so if you send me one i can't guarantee it'll happen if the prompt isn't something i'm comfortable with, but i'll always try! so hmu [@gaymaximoffs](http://gaymaximoffs.tumblr.com) if you liked this!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter, MJ, and Ned have a sleepover after Peter makes an earth-shattering discovery.
> 
> Inspired by [this art](http://baomien.tumblr.com/post/164942651324/baomien-gaymaximoffs-baomien-mj-you-cant) by @baomien on tumblr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this based on this art by tumblr user baomien whom i Love and Adore please go appreciate their art!!!!!!
> 
> also check me out on tumblr [@gaymaximoffs](http://gaymaximoffs.tumblr.com) if you liked this!!!

Peter breaks into an all-out sprint to reach the cafeteria in the morning, with a plastic shopping bag in his arms that bounces against one of his thighs with each step he takes. He stumbles over Ned’s backpack in front of where his two friends are sitting, drops the bag on the table, and slams his hands down.

“Guys, you will never believe what I found last night.”

“If it has anything to do with back alleys or subway rats, feel free to keep it to yourself,” says MJ as she takes a swig from her chocolate milk carton.

“No, no, look!”

Peter holds up a pair of fleece pajama pants, bright blue and patterned with little red spiders.

“I saw them in a shop while I was patrolling last night!”

“You bought your own merch? What a loser.”

“ _No,_ the lady running the shop gave me these for free when I stopped an armed robbery across the street. She gave me three pairs, actually. And there’s matching shirts.”

“Absolutely not,” MJ scoffs at the same time that Ned all but squeals, “This is the coolest thing ever!”

Ned and Peter turn to MJ with twin puppy-dog eyes. It isn’t until Peter breaks out the quivering bottom lip that she gives in. “Alright, fine. I will wear it _one_ time. Once. No more.”

“Great! Movie marathon, my place, tonight?”

“Sounds good,” says Ned.

MJ shrugs. “I’ll be there.”

******

“Peter, I’m not sure about these.”

“Aw, come on, M, it’s not that bad.” The sleeves on MJ’s fleece-lined pajama shirt end about two inches below her wrist, and the pants end just too far above her ankle. “I mean, maybe they were designed for, like, kids. But they’re still cool! Also I… had to guess your size.”

“Yours fit fine, though! Why would you guess my size smaller than yours?”

“I think I might have had a concussion at the time?” MJ rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to.”

“No, fuck off, I’m sleeping in these.”

“…Alright then!”

Just then, as MJ wanders off towards the kitchen to get movie snacks, Ned emerges from Peter’s bathroom in full Spider-PJ garb and glowing.

“I still can’t believe this, dude – my best friend has merch! This is the best gift you’ve ever given me.”

“Uh. You’re welcome.”

“You’re, like, the coolest person in the world.”

MJ calls out from the kitchen, “Can you two be gay over here while you’re helping me pick out snacks instead?”

“You got it!” Peter throws an arm around Ned’s shoulders and drags him off towards the kitchen.

******

“Guys,” says MJ from where she’s buried herself behind Ned and Peter on the couch, “no offense, you know I love you both very much, but you cannot call this a movie marathon night if you’re gonna watch three movies and then pass out.”

“But MJ,” both Ned and Peter whine, laying more or less on top of her. 

“But what?” She’s not wrong – they’re only a little more than halfway through X-Men: The Last Stand. 

“But we’re tired,” says Peter, nuzzling his face against MJ’s cheek, into her hair, with his eyes pressed shut. “And Magneto deserves better anyway.”

“You’ve got a point there,” MJ concedes. “Fine, do what you want.”

“Thanks, M.”

Before the movie ends, all three of them are fast asleep, surrounded by popcorn bags and soda cans. The remote rests on the floor, long forgotten.

******

MJ wakes up with every single one of her limbs completely numb. Ned, curled up against her right side, has his face buried in her shoulder and is snoring gently. Peter, on the other side, is snoring far less peacefully than Ned, and is also quite blatantly drooling in her hair. 

She wrests her arm out from beneath Peter and turns him over to face the other direction, and then wraps her arm around his stomach and pulls him in close. Then, she turns to rest her chin on Ned’s head, closes her eyes, and goes back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading ! if you liked this PLEASE check out my tumblr [@gaymaximoffs](http://gaymaximoffs.tumblr.com) or some of my other (non-drabble) fics <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday gift drabble for @baomien on tumblr based on [this awesome art!](http://gaymaximoffs.tumblr.com/post/165323170579/may-i-request-a-very-cute-and-blushy-peter)

Even though they barely talk outside of decathlon team events, there are moments when Peter would swear Michelle can see into his soul.

“Why are you wearing long sleeves?” She asks the question without looking up from her book, which she continues scanning at a steady pace through thin, wire-rimmed glasses he hadn’t known she needs.

Peter swallows, and forces out an answer before he can overthink it: “Some of, uh, the classes I have today get pretty cold.” It’s bullshit and he knows Michelle knows it –- fall hasn’t even technically started yet, and the AC system in the school is broken and as of yet unrepaired. Peter is sweating through his shirt, and there’s no way Michelle hasn’t noticed.

“Uh-huh.” She peers over her glasses at him now, and Peter finds himself painfully aware of how flushed he is, both from the heat and from the anxiety of having to lie. His hair is damp with sweat, loose curls clinging to his forehead in a way that tickles uncomfortably. 

When Michelle doesn’t look away, he leans back and crosses his arms in a way that he hopes comes across as nonchalant, and tries not to flinch at the jolt of pain that shoots through his left arm, which he had broken fighting off a mugger the night before. With his advanced healing rate it would be fine by tomorrow morning, and he couldn’t risk going to a hospital to have it set, but when he left for school it had still been visibly broken and bruised.

Michelle doesn’t say anything else, just goes back to reading her book, and Peter lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. Even when she isn’t looking at him, he can’t shake the feeling that Michelle sees him.

He glances across the lab table at her one more time. The sheet of scrap paper in front of Michelle, which she had been idly doodling on earlier in the class period, catches his eye –- on it, amongst loosely scrawled hands and shoes and classroom objects, are three sharply defined, distinct red spiders.

Peter pulls down his sleeve and moves on to the next lab station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday to bao!!
> 
> i'm not going to be taking drabble requests for a while again, until otherwise specified because of school and college applications and other such responsibilities :C but i do have drafts of projects that i intend to keep working on! my fic output is just gonna drop for a while because of writer's block and the aforementioned reasons.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second drabble I wrote for Bao's birthday, based on [their awesome art!](http://gaymaximoffs.tumblr.com/post/165321885894/baomien-i-dont-wanna-die-i-dont-wanna-die-bao)

He can’t see.

He can’t see, breathe, can barely move –- the failed parachute ripples out with the water just as his fingers brush against it, before he can grip it tight enough to tear, and he can’t swim _up._ He feels his movements growing clumsier alongside the building static at the edges of his vision, and there is nothing in his lungs. His neck jerks forwards as the lightheadedness overtakes him and his eyes close (or maybe the static overwhelmed his vision, it doesn’t matter –- the effect is the same regardless).

Peter wakes up in a cold sweat, bedsheets closing in on all sides around him. He can’t breathe, can’t call for help, just keeps thrashing until his leg hits something solid and cleaves straight through it. A minute later, his is face is free, and he feels the breeze floating in through an open window settle over his flushed skin.

“Hey, Peter?” His jaw is locked shut still, he doesn’t respond, but he remembers Ned is on the top bunk at the sound of his hesitant voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” The sound is choppy and dissonant, but Peter is surprised he managed to make it at all with the way his throat is completely closed off.

“I’m coming down there.” Peter can’t say anything else, only nods – a gesture he knows Ned can’t see, but it’s better than nothing. “You, uh, kicked through the ladder.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll just–” Ned jumps down from the top bunk, landing on his sock-clad feet on the floor of Peter’s room with a muted thud. He sits down on the edge of the bed, where Peter remains flat on his back, counting the metal bars that hold up the top mattress.

“Hi.”

“Dude, what’s wrong?” Peter only shakes his head. Ned pushes a few locks of hair away from his eyes with a sigh. “You were freaking out. You _kicked through your ladder._ Look, don’t tell me what’s wrong if you don’t want to, but tell me what I can do to help.”

Peter rolls onto his side to look up at Ned. “Stay?”

Ned nods. He leans back on Peter’s pillow, and Peter lightly presses his face into Ned’s belly.

“Doesn’t May have some kind of rule against this?”

Peter snorts and buries his face further. Ned thinks he’s still laughing until he notices Peter’s rough breathing, feels him sniffle against his side.

“Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”

Peter’s voice is so quiet Ned almost can’t make it out with the way it’s muffled against his stomach.

“I don’t wanna die.”

“You’re not gonna die, okay? You’re in your bed. You’re safe.” Ned runs a hand gently over Peter’s back, as Peter’s fingers dig into him and press him closer.

“I don’t wanna die, Ned, I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die–-” his rambling dissolves into unintelligible sobs, until he can only heave and gasp for breath, until his throat aches and his lungs give out –- until his ragged breathing, which catches every few minutes on nothing, matches the steady rhythm of Ned’s hand running smooth circles over the small of his back.

In the morning, Peter isn’t sure how long it took for him to give out, or which one of them went first. All he knows is that he wakes up with two soft arms around him, pulling him in safe. He keeps his eyes closed and focuses on his breathing, lets himself drift away for just a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo yeah idk when i'll have time to write more but i really hope to!! i have more ideas to flesh out but for the time being check out my other fics on here that aren't drabbles (which hopefully i'll have more of soon) C:

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the song "polymorphing" by chairlift
> 
> find me on tumblr [@kirishimadhd](http://kirishimadhd.tumblr.com) if you enjoyed this!!


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